The World On A String
by Rush Limborg
Summary: Set in Season 5, during "House Of Horrors With Formal Dining And Used Brick". The culmination of the "Sam & Diane" subplot of the episode, following Diane's immortal "I *am* your light!" Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**Note: Much like "Of Cake And Coffee", this story arose from my wondering how a certain hint towards a Sam-Diane sequence played out. And of course, I personally couldn't resist the urge to write for Miss Chambers at her most playfully flirtatious and unbearably cute (emphasis on "unbearably", as far as poor Sam's concerned)—the Diane of the first half of Season 5, who beams and glows and lets precious little get her down, because "I'm in love…and I ****_know_**** my fella loves me—he just doesn't know it, yet." (Somehow, I really do think the mood of Sinatra's classic, where the title of this tale comes from, really does fit Diane's mood at this point in the show.)**

**Anyway—what happened after "I ****_am_**** your light"? Read on, and enjoy!**

* * *

Sam Malone didn't need a date tonight, anyway. And even if he did—who cared whether she was "smart" or not? Tiffany was a darn great sight for sore eyes…and as far as Sam was concerned, he needed it—

_Indeed, Sam?_ The voice of the one woman he _didn't_ want to hear, right now, sounded out his inner thoughts. _Then why did you cancel your date with her?_

Sam shook his head, as he checked the time. It was 7:23. _She_ was probably in her apartment, as she'd said…waiting for him to stop by—even though he said he wouldn't. But that woman kept acting like what he kept telling her didn't register—well, she responded to it, and then acted like he didn't mean it, with that sweet, knowing _smile_ of hers….

The door opened, and she walked into the bar, "Hello again, everyone!"

_Just go away…_please_ just—go _away_…_ "You're working overtime?" Sam muttered, as he poured a beer, handing it to Norm.

Diane Chambers gave a little pout as she walked over to the counter, "Oh, come now, my darling—don't be like that, especially on such a night as this…"

"Hey, will you stop—and besides, shouldn't you be at your _apartment_, or something?"

Diane shrugged, taking a seat, "Why, _Sam_…!" she cooed, "Were you going to check, after all?"

"Will you just—?"

"As a matter of fact, I decided to change my plans for the night. I walked down the streets of Boston, following my shift…and discovered it was simply too wonderful a night to spend alone…."

"So get a date." Sam didn't know why he headed to her—but the bar was between them, so he was safe. "You want a drink?"

Diane smiled, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. "Not at the moment. And as to your other question—no…I wouldn't ever want to waste tonight with just _any_ man…."

Sam smirked. "Well, enjoy it, sweetheart."

"I intend to."

"_Without_ me!"

Diane shrugged, and made a show of looking around, "And where's _your_ date?"

Sam took a glass, and cleaned it. "I don't need one, tonight."

"Ah, I see…" Diane's smile grew. "Your standards wouldn't allow you to keep up your charade for long…?"

"No standards—I'm just not in the mood."

"Oh, you seemed to be when I arrived today—what was her name? Ah, yes, Tiffany…"

Sam threw out his free hand, "Hey, give it a _rest_, will ya? Tiffany and I couldn't work out, tonight—"

"Apparently, she could."

Sam leaned forward, in what he hoped was an intimidating pose, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Diane shrugged, looking at him with an innocence not _quite_ as pure as the wind-driven snow, "Why, Sam! I only meant I'm sure she was too busy with her aerobics session."

Sam straightened up, and smirked, "Trust me, if that were it, she'd have gotten some _real_ exercise, tonight."

"I'm sure she would. Now, I understand you were concerned with searching for intelligence—"

"Hey, _Sam_!" Carla called over, "Ya want to keep on beating a stick, or do you want to take this order?"

Diane's eyes didn't leave Sam's. "I believe I'm beating _him_, Carla."

Sam stiffened, "No, you're _not_," he shot back, as he headed over to Carla's side.

"Oh—Sam?" Diane called, "If you'll be working for the rest of the night—"

"Diane…do _whatever_ you want, I don't care—as long as it's got nothing to do with _me_!"

Diane shrugged, and rose to her feet, "All right…I suppose I will."

"Good," Sam muttered, as he turned to Carla—

"Uh, Sam?" Diane called out.

"_What_?" Sam whirled to her.

Diane grinned, and her voice lowered, "What was it you called me, a moment ago?"

"Hey, if you didn't like it, I'm standing by it."

Diane chuckled, and shook her head, "_No_…you said, 'Enjoy it', and then…?"

Sam didn't know what she was getting at, but he had the feeling it wasn't going to work well for him._ Great—just great._

He shrugged, "If you forgot, I'm not gonna repeat it—"

Diane swayed to where he now stood, "You referred to me, a handful of minutes ago…as '_sweetheart'_," she said, in a warm voice.

Sam forced a smirk, "Sorry, but I wouldn't take that too personally—"

"Hey, _Sam_!" Carla glared at him.

"Yeah, what's up, sweetheart?"

Carla rolled her eyes, with a huff.

Diane chuckled, as she leaned to him invitingly, "Deny _all_ you want, my love…but you will never dissuade either of us of the truth—"

"You know, you're irritating the heck outta me—_that's_ the truth."

Diane straightened up, and shrugged, "Regardless—I'll return soon, later tonight: there are several things I can do, in the meantime…to prepare. _Bon soir, mon coer_…!"

"Prepare for—?"

"_Sam_!" Carla smacked the bar.

Sam turned to her, "Right—what am I making?"

"An idiot of yourself."

"Come on, Carla—"

"Yeah, whatever—listen…" Carla ran down the list. Sam took it down—but not without noticing Diane walking confidently to the exit, la-la-la-ing to herself. As she opened the door, Diane paused, and tossed him a confident smile, filled with invitation. With most other girls, Sam would've called it a "come hither" look—but then, Diane wasn't most other girls. This was more of an "I've got you, for all time" look.

"Don't you have something _better_ to do?" Carla grumbled. "Like do the _order_, or something?"

Sam shook his head, as he mixed the drinks. "What are you talking about?"

"You're feeding the beast, ya know. Ignore her, and she'll knock it off _sooner_ or later—but you're not, Sam! You're just making it _worse_!"

Sam shrugged, "You know, I don't think I'll be able to stand that for too long—she'll just keep on talking and _talking_—"

"So what—she does that, anyway. She's playing you like a flute, Sammy, and you know it—and you're letting her! What are you, a _masochist_?

"Carla—"

"Save it. You wanna get rid of her? I can do it, but it's gonna need—"

"Hey, give it a rest, will you?—besides, don't you have moving plans to worry about?"

Carla stiffened a little. "Just—get me the drinks, Sam…or is it _Sap_?"

"I said give it a _rest_! I got this…."

Carla shook her head, rolling her eyes. Sam finished the drinks, and filled the tray.

As Carla left, Sam braced himself. He suspected he'd have to, for the rest of the night.

_Just get a date—who cares what Diane thinks? You like fast women—call Tiffany, and—_

No, what would that do? He just wasn't in the mood for Tiffany.

_Why not?! You were in the mood before _she_ started "describing" her for you! What _is_ it about her, anyway—Diane?_

It was like when they were first together—and that former girlfriend of his had dropped in, one time. Sam was about to walk the woman to her car, but Diane suddenly squirted a load of seltzer water _down there_—and that had been that.

No seltzer water this time…but Diane was still able somehow to cool things down. And in the meantime, despite himself, he had to admit she was also—

_No…_oh_, no—no-no-no…NO! Don't you go there—she's _not_ "heating things up". She's just being annoying, as usual, these days!_

He heard her gentle, teasing voice in his head again: _Then why are you constantly looking to the door, my love…?_

_Oh, stop—I don't love her, okay?! I'm just bracing myself for more of her stupid nonsense—that's it!_

Somehow…he was able to keep on working, for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was the last one in the bar. Carla made it clear she didn't like it—not one little bit—but Sam was the boss. And so he stood behind the counter, alone, counting the receipts.

And _that_ was when the door opened again, and Diane came in with a glow, "Hello, my husband-to-be!"

Sam whirled to her, "How'd you get in?"

Diane frowned, glancing at the door as it closed, "Sam, you didn't lock the door."

Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head, "I thought I did."

"Well, apparently not. Oh—if you want me to do it for you, I'll be glad to—"

"Hey, don't even think about it!"

Diane turned to him, "Well, it wouldn't do to have someone barging in after closing—"

"Yeah, well someone just _did_—now go ahead and lock it, on the way _out_."

Diane sighed, and shook her head, "Sam…I know what you're so desperately trying to convey—but I _hardly_ think it's worth leaving this door unlocked for longer than it has to be."

"_Fine_. Go right ahead, I don't care…"

Diane locked the door, and headed to the counter, taking a seat. "Funny thing, Sam: after freshening up, I found myself passing the time tonight, with _Much Ado About Nothing_."

"Yeah, what else is new?"

Diane sighed, smiling at him. "The _play_, Sam—the Shakespearian comedy! I'm reading it for a class."

"Uh-huh."

"Anyway…it concerns a man and a woman—Bededick and Beatrice—who spend their time regularly mocking one another and the idea that they could _possibly_ pursue a romantic relationship. In fact…Benedick in particular scoffs at the idea of finding a woman at _all_, with whom to settle down. His friends, of course, seek to—"

"You trying to tell me something?"

Diane shrugged, "Why, Sam—is there something to glean from what I said?"

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. The receipts were done, now, and he put them away. "You know, you're incredible."

"Well! Thank you, Sam—I certainly try to be."

"No, no, no…I'm just saying, it's amazing to me, how you just keep on _not_ believing that I mean what I say, when I say it's over—"

"Sam…you don't actually expect me to believe, after you opened your _heart_ to me, that it was all a lie…now, do you?"

Sam just stared at her. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't teasing him…she was watching him, studying him and waiting for a response.

Sam shook his head again, "Why did you come here, tonight? Just to talk to me about old plays, or just to act nuts?"

Diane sighed, "Sam…I noticed you failed to follow through on your _threat_ involving a date, tonight."

"Oh, so you want to gloat some more."

She shook her head, "Sam, that isn't fair—"

"No? Let me tell you something: if I wanted to have a date tonight, I'd have gotten one."

"And why didn't you?"

"Didn't feel like it."

"_Sam_…you certainly seemed to, when you sifted through that book of yours—"

"I changed my mind! I can do that, can't I?" Sam turned away, to focus on the glasses as he put them away. Anything—_anything_…to look at something other than her. Diane…sitting there, waiting for him to open up and "be vulnerable".

_Yeah, I'll bet that's what she wants, isn't it? Just to see me on my knees again—yeah…on my knees, begging. Like I'd go through that again._

"May I help?"

Sam turned to her, with a smirk, "With what? I'm almost done." He went back to the glasses, putting them away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Diane rising to her feet, and walking around the counter, and into the inlet, to him. Sam let out a scoff, and turned to her. She smiled as she met his gaze—a sweet, warm and kind smile she had to _know_ would help lower his guard.

"Sam…please," she said, "Let me help."

Sam sighed, and shrugged. "Fine…whatever."

Diane nodded, and took her apron, tying it secure around her waist. Despite himself, Sam always liked watching her do that—and watching her take it off, when her shift was over. There was always something about it…like she was dressing or undressing in front of him. Maybe it was how casually she did it, like it was natural for her—not something unusual—like it was a part of her regular kind of clothes. Not for the first time, Sam wondered if she knew what kind of effect it had.

They were done in a few minutes, and Sam muttered, "Okay, sit down…I'll go cover the pool table."

"Aye-aye, captain!" Diane saluted, with a grin—and lifted herself onto the bar, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge.

Sam went straight to the pool room, without a glance. It was adorable as heck, what she was doing—and that was the worst part.

_Easy, Sam…easy. She's trying to wear you down—that's all that's going on. Don't let her snag you. She won't let go._

When he was done with the pool table, he braced himself again, as he went back out into the main room. Diane was still on the counter—lying on her stomach, knees bent so that her feet hovered above. She was peering at something in the wood. Sam stiffened. He knew exactly where she was looking.

He cleared his throat, "Hey, um…" he walked over to her, "I think that's it, for tonight."

Diane looked up at him with a smile. "Sam, look at this!"

Sam looked down at the bar…and sure enough, there it was: _SM + DC_.

"Yeah…" he said, quietly. He could feel her gaze on him…waiting. Waiting, he knew in his gut, for him to turn to her, so they could share this moment…this memory.

Well, it was hopeless, anyway. He turned to her. She was still smiling, warmly…almost sadly.

"What a pair, huh?" Sam couldn't resist. He knew it would just dig him deeper…but he said it anyway. The truth was, Sam couldn't resist: the way she looked at him, how sincere and kind she looked…and how she looked, resting on the counter like that (something she would never have done if anyone else were around), propping her head up with her arms, resting her chin in her palms—darn, was she beautiful.

Diane sighed, and nodded, "Yeah…look at us, Sam. The two of us, so clearly in love—so _deeply_ in love, and yet—"

"Hold on," Sam shook his head as he straightened up, "No one said anything about us being in love, right now—"

"_I_ just said it."

"I know, and you're nuts."

Diane sat up, moving so that her long and slender legs dangled over the rail. She stared at the ground, as if gathering her thoughts.

"Sam," she said in a near whisper, "It's painfully obvious to _me_, at least. And I…I _cannot_ believe you don't see it. I don't believe you're so blind, or so incompetent—"

"Hey, you've called me stupid, before."

Diane shook her head, "You of all people should know by now, Sam—I've never meant it. I may be…on occasion frustrated at your refusal to _learn_—at your stubbornness in your…lack of progress—but," she looked at him, "I never truly believed you _couldn't_ do better…just that you, for whatever reason, never wanted to."

Sam looked off, shaking his head as he took a seat. "Yeah…'do better'. You remember the first time you said that kind of thing to me?"

Diane frowned, saying nothing.

"It was when I was trying to pick up a chick, and you were laughing behind my back. _You_ said, it was a compliment—you thought I could 'do better' then no-brain babes with big racks."

"I don't recall using _quite_ those words…."

"I know; _I'm_ using them."

"Of course," Diane half-smiled, "And as _I_ recall, Sam, you were suddenly motivated to hold your dates up to a higher standard of intelligence…which, I'm _reasonably_ sure, is what happened today."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "Boy, you people. Sitting up, on high, looking down on the rest of us—"

Diane slid off the counter taking the stool beside him. "Is this better?" she smiled.

Sam shrugged, "Well, a little, but—no, the _point_ is…you just love studying me, don't you? 'Progress'…'doing better'—"

"Sam, please…why _did_ you cancel your date with Tiffany, if it wasn't that?"

"I'm sorry; I missed the part where it was any of your business."

Diane's lip tightened, as she stared at him in silence.

"Sorry," Sam let out a sigh, "You know what—yeah, you're right. I let what _you_ said get to me—_again_. And I don't have a clue why I should even care—I mean…who _cares_ if she's a brain or not? She's a body! She takes care of herself—and I'd say she's talented, huh?"

"_Oh_, yes," Diane nodded, "She's quite an acrobat, I take it."

"Yeah, I think she's a cheerleader, or something." Sam smiled at her, "Didn't you tell me once, you tried to—?"

"Sam, we aren't discussing me."

"_No_, hold on…" Sam stood and pointed to her, with a grin, "_You_ told me you didn't make the squad, and you thought you were great—"

"I _was_!"

Sam chuckled, "So, are you jealous, or something? Tiffany made it, and you didn't—?"

"_What_—I…" Diane shook her head, as she stood, "Sam, I wasn't even _aware_ she was a cheer—_may_ have been a cheerleader, until you informed me, just now!"

"Uh-huh. But now you _know_."

Diane smiled, "Sam, I can assure you I'm _not_ jealous of Tiffany. I don't have a reason to be—you cancelled, after all."

"If I hadn't, _would_ you be jealous?"

"Not at all…but I'm curious, Sam: if you knew it might—_would_ you have cancelled?"

"Hey, you said no, so that's kinda moot."

"Sam, I couldn't help thinking that you cancelled only because you believed _I_ found your choice in…_competition_ quite amusing."

"Competition, my eye—"

"I didn't find her a worthy competitor—and you knew I wasn't jealous at all, because of that."

"Yeah—maybe I should find more broads like Janet, huh?"

Diane froze, her smile gone.

Sam shook his head, "Not that I want to put myself through _that_ again…."

Diane nodded, looking off.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "Do you know what she did to me?"

"Oh, I think I had an idea."

"I mean why she broke _up_ with me…" Sam chucked at himself, shaking his head, "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but: she said I needed to bite the bullet, and admit I still had a _thing_ for you!"

Diane stiffened, "Did she?"

"Yeah, she did. To be honest, I guess she wasn't the only one."

Diane smiled at him, and nodded, "I know, Sam."

Sam gave a light shrug, "So I did…and what happens? I go all out for you, I give you the kind of proposal you tell me you _want_…and you say 'no'. Why? Because you think I'm just doing it because of Janet. So apparently it wasn't _good_ enough!" He looked off, and muttered, "Nothing I do's good enough…."

"Sam…" Diane shook her head, but Sam paced the room, going on:

"You know—I don't know why I should care, in the first place! What does it matter what _you_ think, huh? You think Tiffany's not 'good' enough for me—_fine_! Heck with you—you know, I should've gone out with her anyway—we'd have had a _great_ time! But for _some_ reason, I didn't go through with it—because I was too stuck on what _you_ thought. I can't find anyone 'good enough'—_nothing_ I do—"

"Sam, stop it!"

Sam turned to her. Diane shook her head, pursing her lips. She looked like she was fighting a tear.

Sam couldn't handle it. For all the craziness she put him through…her tears were always enough to tug at his heart. He stated to walk to her, "Oh, come on—honey—"

Diane held up her hand, shaking her head. Sam stopped.

"Sam," Diane finally said, lowering her hand, "I'm _sorry_ for saying 'no'. I _am_! Believe me, not a day goes by, where I don't find myself wishing with _all_ my heart that I hadn't…hadn't hurt you as I did. But—oh, _what_ can I do to make it up to you? I've told you—from that night on, Sam!—I've let you know how _willing_ I am to make amends for it. Sam…I'm _here_! I'm open, and ready, and…and _willing_—" she blinked, and looked off, "Well, um…in a sense, anyway—"

Sam let out a sigh, "Look…Diane, I said it's done—and I'm sorry, but I mean it! You turned me down: fine! That's that. I'm moving on—now, excuse me if _you_ won't."

Diane paused for a while. At last, she straightened up and looked him in the eye, "Sam, why did you propose in the first place, if it wasn't because you love me?"

Sam stared at her…and found he couldn't answer.

Diane stepped to him, "If it were any other reason…I sincerely doubt you would've reacted as you did. You opened you _heart_ to me, Sam—and God forgive me, I didn't see it for what it was."

Sam shook his head, "Diane, I said it's done—"

"No, it _isn't_! Sam, I can't believe—"

"Why not, huh? You're so stuck on my still loving you—"

"_Sam_…love isn't something you can simply turn off—and I'd say your constant bitterness, these past few months, is proof of that!"

"Oh, please—_Frasier_ was all bitter over you, wasn't he?"

Diane's eyes welled up, and she turned away…and Sam found himself desperately wishing he hadn't brought that up.

_Great…real great, Sammy. _"Diane, I—"

"No," Diane turned to him, "Sam, I…I can't believe it's the same thing. Frasier kept asking if I still loved you—and I _know_ if…if I hadn't been so foolish—if I'd admitted the truth to him and to _myself_…he'd have accepted it before it could have _possibly_ hurt him. It isn't the same…."

Sam walked to her, and took her by the arms. "Diane, I shouldn't have brought that up…I'm sorry."

"No," she said softly, "_I_ should be sorry, Sam. You're right—I broke his heart, and frankly I broke yours, too. And…and I can only do what I can, to make amends for both."

Sam nodded, releasing her. Diane untied her apron, and used it to dry her eyes.

"Well, I don't think you need to worry about him," Sam muttered.

"But," Diane shook her head, as she put the apron on the bar, "You _can't_ tell me you don't still feel the love you expressed on the boat, as you—"

Sam let out a sigh, "Diane, this isn't going anywhere good, for either of us—"

"Sam, why did you propose to me?"

"I don't _know_, okay? I…I _thought_ it was because I loved you—but I'm just not sure, right now."

"Why not? Was it because I rejected your proposal, and you're trying to reassure yourself?"

"Boy, you sure have all the answers, don't you?"

Diane nodded, "In this case, I believe I do."

"Well good for you—because right now, I don't think this is going anywhere."

"It isn't, because you won't let it. _Sam_…I'm telling you, right now, that I am desperate to atone for the mistake I made. I _love_ you, Sam! Why can't you accept that?"

Sam just stared at her, for a while unsure of how to respond. She'd said it before, of course…she'd said this kind of thing a lot, lately—but now, it left him stunned…not shocked, but—"I don't believe this."

"You—?" Diane blinked, "What…don't you believe? You don't believe that I love you, Sam?"

Sam sighed, and walked off a little.

"But I _do_—with all my heart! Sam, I wouldn't behave as I have, if I _didn't_—can't you accept that?"

Sam shook his head, as he smirked at her. "Let's not go down there, again."

Diane deflated, and stared at the ground. "So that it," she muttered, "You don't trust me—is that it?"

"Diane—"

"No…no, I suppose I can't blame you. You're afraid that if you open your heart to me once more, you'll only be hurt again. Is that it?"

_There you go…she got you. She always gets you—does she know you that much?_

"Hey…" Sam walked back to her, "Look…I don't think this is a good time for—"

Diane looked up at him, "When _would_ be a good time for this, Sam? I love you—and we both know it. I know you love _me_…and yet…"

"Hey—we're making some big assumptions, here, you know—"

"Sam…" Diane stiffened, "_What_ would it take to prove to you that I love you?"

"You know, I could ask _you_ what it'd take to prove it's over between us—"

"Well, I'd say 'sincerity of action' if I thought for a moment you'd be capable of it."

Sam froze. "Pardon?"

Diane flinched, "Sincerity in _this_ case, Sam."

"Oh…_right_. So you don't think I'm sincere about it."

"No, in fact, I don't. You've _told_ me you're moving on…and honestly, Sam, I've yet to see it—and I don't think I ever will."

Sam threw his hands out, "You know—you call _me_ arrogant? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're just driving me _nuts_?! I don't _know_ what I want—okay? And you're not helping me a _bit_, with your smiling and teasing and _wedding plans_—do you know how SICK I get when you do that?"

Diane shook his head, "I don't think you're sick at _me_, Sam—at least, not like that."

"Oh yeah? Well, okay—if you're so smart, what's my problem?"

"I believe we already discussed it—"

"Oh, sure—I don't know if you love me, so I don't know if I love you! It makes _perfect_ sense, doesn't it?"

"_Do_ you know, Sam? Are you really so certain that your feelings are _finis_?"

Sam sighed, and shook his head, "You know, I don't think it's gonna matter how I answer that—you'll just twist it however you want, because you think you know how I _really_ feel."

Diane looked off and smiled, "Well, we agree on the last part."

"There you go—THERE you go! Geez, I'm stuck with a loon who can't take a hint—!"

"Sam—" Diane held up her hand, "Please don't. I only mean, as far as I'm concerned, there's only one reason you would propose to me the way you did—and only one reason you would take my initial rejection so hard."

"Well, maybe you're just not thinking hard enough—you know that?"

Diane stiffened again, lowering her arm, and said, "Sam, if you _don't_ truly love me—not enough to overcome this…this childish, _petty_ obsession of yours with rejecting the offer of _my_ love—well, then…then I was right to say 'no'."

Sam shook his head, "Sweetheart, you're _not_ putting this on me—"

"I'm not! Sam…I _refuse_ to believe that. I can't accept that you don't love me—and unless and until it becomes apparent that you don't, I have no _choice_ but to hope…and to look forward to the day when you'll smile at me, beckoning me to you…and then holding me in your arms, and—"

"Diane," Sam walked to her, and shook his head, "That won't be tonight."

Diane swallowed, and nodded, "I know…."

She straightened, brushed down her dress, and turned to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Before she reached the door, something snapped—and Sam whirled to her, shoving away the voice of his brain, "Hey—Diane?"

Diane stopped, and turned to him.

Sam beckoned with his finger, with a whispered, "Come here…."

Diane smiled faintly, tiling her head questioningly. But she walked back to him.

Sam stared at her intently, and said, "If you tell me—right now—that you want to marry me…I'll tell you I want to marry you."

Diane stared at him in silence…until finally she chuckled, shaking her head. "I know what you're trying to do, Sam."

"No, come on—"

"_Sam_…I haven't exactly been vague on _my_ desires. You _know_ I want to marry you."

Sam grinned. "Well…_I_ sure don't want to marry—"

"Oh, Sam, you're so predictable. _You_ intend to ruin this wonderful moment, in pursuit of vengeance for what _you_ feel to be my playing games with your heart."

"Hey, give me some credit, here—!"

Diane shook her head, chuckling, "Well, I _will_ admit you can be quite charming, when you don't intend to be."

"Okay…" Sam closed the remaining distance between them.

Diane shrugged, "And you _did _refer to me as your sweetheart, a moment ago…."

"Yeah, sure I did. Now, um—what say you and I…take this little discussion to my place—?"

"_Sam_!" Diane laughed, shaking her head. When she was through, she sighed and shook her head, "Well, I'm glad to hear you're at last open to _something_."

"Yeah, so how about you?"

Diane shrugged, "Well, I admit, it _is_ tempting…."

"Mm…hmm!" Sam wrapped his arms around her. "So, what do you say?"

He felt Diane responding in kind, but she pursed her lips for a moment, and said, "Well, to—to be perfectly honest, Sam, I—"

Sam smiled.

Diane stared at him, her eyelashes starting to flutter, "I-I don't—think…"

Her voice trailed off…and they leaned to one another. Their lips met…and the sparks simmered and erupted and grew into a roaring wildfire.

"Mnn—my place?" Sam managed to blurt out.

Diane nodded, "Oh yes, Sam—_now_! I…wait, my apron—!"

Sam cut her off with kiss after kiss, "Forget the apron—let's go, huh?"

As the moved closer to the door, Diane let out, "Oh, Sam…once again, in—each other's arms—"

"Right—"

"And just moments from…oh, Sam, it would so perfect—at…at last, it's once again so _right_—"

"Wait a minute…" Sam paused, looking at her, "Right for what?"

Diane beamed at him, "Why, your proposal, of course!"

"Oh, _come_ on!" Sam moaned, as he let her go, straightening up. "_Diane_!—why do you have to—"

"Oh, but Sam—don't you see? This…this grand explosion of passion—"

"Geez, you really _don't_ give up, do you?"

Diane stared at him, and sighed. "Right…that _was_ a little impatient, wasn't it?"

Sam spread out his hands. "Come on—I mean…don't you think—"

"No, Sam, I…I only want it to _mean_ something—a new step in our relationship—"

"I-I know! Sure, just not _that_ big—"

Diane gave a quick bounce in her step, with a glowing smile. "Then you will?! Well—eventually, I mean…?"

_Oh, great—way to go, Sam! Way to GO!_

Sam shook his head, "Gee, you think I'm going to, anyway, so…?"

Diane pointed to him, "_Ah_, but I'm sure you'd agree that in moments such as these, we must _both_ be sure to acknowledge—"

"Okay, fine: it's a new step in our relationship."

"And?"

Sam scoffed, "What—what are you _doing_ to me, Diane? You saying we can only hit the sack if I _propose_?"

"Not _necessarily_…although I wouldn't be opposed to your, um, 'speeding it _along_' for us…."

"In your dreams."

Diane sighed, "Well, in that case, at least a pledge that—when you feel the time is right, you _will_."

Sam scratched the side of his head, "You're getting a little desperate, aren't you?"

Diane huffed, "Well, if you _won't_…"

"Come on—a few minutes ago, you kept on saying it was only a matter of time—what do _you_ care what I say or not?"

"_Sam_," Diane pointed at him again, "I don't want to argue—I only want to establish that we're in full agreement as to the direction of our relationship."

"Well, what does it _matter_?"

Diane dropped her arm, and she swallowed, and began, "It _matters_, Sam, that I don't want the two of us to suffer a conflict of interests regarding our path. I can't bear that again—_not_ again!"

"Hey, come on, what's the big deal—?"

Diane shook her head, with a sad smile. "Sam…I know, in my heart, that we are destined to be together, however long it'll take. But—in order for it to happen, _you_ must know it, too. And that means that…what we have _can't_ only be physical—and both of us must know it, and accept it."

Sam sighed, and looked off. "Gah, why didn't I go with Tiffany when I had the chance?" he muttered.

Diane shrugged, and smiled, "Well—for what it's worth, I think tonight _has_ been a positive sign, for both of us. With our talk, we've made progress, such as it is—"

Sam walked past her, and opened the door, "Yeah, here's some good progress—let's get out of here, and go."

Diane grinned, following him out as Sam locked the door. "As you say, my love—"

"Oh, knock it off. We're _done_."

"For tonight, perhaps," Diane sang out, as they walked up the steps to the street, "But you and I, Sam Malone, are for all time—!"

"I said knock it _off_, okay? I'm not in the mood for it."

Diane chuckled, "Oh, Sam, I love you."

"Stop saying that."

Diane took his hand. "Well, I _do_!"

"I said stop—and let go of me!"

"Why, Sam—you're holding on to _me_, too!"

"What are you t—?" And Sam noticed that, despite himself, he _was_ returning her hold. He scoffed, and let go—well, on _his_ end. Her hand still kept its grip, as they stepped onto the sidewalk. And to make matters worse, Diane kissed him on the cheek.

"Drive me home, Sam?" she smiled.

"Let…_go_."

Diane chuckled, and did so.

"Thank you! Now, I'm sure you can get back the way you came."

Diane pouted, "Sam, do you realize I'll have to walk alone, or wait for a cab for who knows how long—and at _this_ late hour, who knows—?"

"_Fine_—this way!"

Diane's smile returned, "Oh, thank you, Sam…I knew you'd come through."

"Shut up."

As they walked to the car, Diane looked upward, "Ha!"

_I'm gonna regret this: _"Oh, great, what is it, _now_?"

"Ah, I was just thinking…do you know what happened to Benedick and Beatrice?"

"Oh, that _Whole Lot of Nothing_?"

He'd hoped it would be enough to tick her off—_anything_ to wipe that cutesy _grin_ off her face.

Didn't work. Diane just chuckled, shaking her head. "It's called _Much Ado _About_ Nothing_, Sam."

"Whatever," Sam muttered, knowing full well he wasn't going to win, tonight. "Let me guess: they suck it up, admit they were being stupid, and tie the knot in the end, right?"

Diane nodded—taking his hand _again_. "You see, Sam? Though you refuse to admit it, even _you_ know, in your heart, that it's meant to be."

"No, that's just what usually ends up happening in those kinds of plays, or movies, or _whatever_. It's got _nothing_ to do with us!"

Diane nodded, "Whatever keeps you happy, my love."

"Stop calling me that!

"_C'est la vie_, _mon coer_."

"What's—never mind, _don't_; I don't want to know…."

Sam opened the door to the car—and felt like kicking himself when he realized too late it was the passenger's seat. _Oh, great—not again_….

Diane glowed at him, "Thank you, Sam," she sweetly near-whispered, and gave him a kiss before she took her seat.

Sam would have slammed the door, if it wasn't _his car_. He _would_ have!—really!

_I don't know what's worse_, he mused as he headed to the driver's side, opened the door, and sat down, _going ahead and marrying her…or suffering _this_ for the rest of my life! Because I've got a _bad_ feeling that _nothing's_ ever going to convince her it's over—she'll just keep on singing inside, and _smiling_ at me, and acting so cutesy…and cute._

Sam shook his head and sighed, as he started the car and drove…trying his hardest not to listen to Diane, as she leaned back in her seat, looking off…and softly sang to herself, beside him:

"_I've got the world on a string…_

_Sitting on a rainbow…_

_Got the string, around my finger_….

_What a world!_

_What a life!—I'm in love…!_"

_Yeah_, Sam mused, keeping his eyes fixed on the road, _"What a life" is right_….


End file.
